


Familiar Strangers

by SamJoinedtheReconCorps



Series: A Flame in the Shadows [17]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Caleb just wants to go home y'all that's all he wants, M/M, post ep 90, spoilers for ep 97, yearning for home
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-19
Updated: 2020-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:08:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23219788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SamJoinedtheReconCorps/pseuds/SamJoinedtheReconCorps
Summary: Caleb sees familiar faces - some turned strangers, and some with an unsettling familiarity that makes his skin crawl.
Relationships: Essek Thelyss/Caleb Widogast
Series: A Flame in the Shadows [17]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1648909
Comments: 16
Kudos: 129





	Familiar Strangers

**Author's Note:**

> allllriiiiighty, so I finished my other final paper for my legal narratives class!!! And my logic final was cancelled, and my professor is giving us full credit on it!!!! To everyone who’s wishes me luck on finals: ❤️❤️❤️ I see you, and I appreciate you, your words mean the world to me, thank you so much for taking the time comment such sweet things, and so, here's the next part of the series :))))
> 
> this one's pretty Caleb-centric, but I mean, it needs to be done gang
> 
> I really hope you guys like it!!

After the battle, after climbing out the Chantry’s caverns and finding Pumat wounded but alive and being tended to, the Mighty Nein step back out into the pouring rain with an escort of soldiers, and are taken to Castle Ungebroch within the Shimmer Ward - the highest seat of power in the Empire. They’re marched straight to a holding room where they wait, getting their story straight in hushed voices as well as hiding any symbols that may betray them against the throne. It's a tense wait, but before long the Marshal - after taking their weapons - opens the door, and they’re ushered inside.

For a brief moment, the memory of stepping into the Bright Queen’s throne room surfaces in Caleb’s mind as he looks around at the high backed chairs, like a forum, all facing towards one singular pinnacle - King Dwendal’s throne. They rise a set of stairs to reach the central floor of the throne room, their footsteps echoing almost as loud as their hearts thunder in their chests.

Caleb instantly recognizes King Bertrand Dwendal - he’s seen enough artworks and depictions of him throughout the empire to recognize the sovereign leader. Immediately to the king’s right is an older gnome, and the name Oliver Schreiber comes to mind as Caleb realizes that he's the king’s assistant, the closest of his inner circle. To the left of the king is Prime Arbiter Sydnock Truscan, his face set in a severe frown as he watches them approach.

The other seats of the council are familiar faces to Caleb except for a couple. There’s a half-elf in Cobalt Soul robes that Caleb guesses Beau might know and a masked guard, standing behind the king, most likely a personal protector. To his surprise Caleb sees Arcanist Allura Vysoren, who gives them a small nod in greeting when she sees them. Oremid Hass is there too, pausing his conversation with Martinent Ludinus Da’leth as they both turn to them. And then there’s - there’s Ikithon.

There’s the urge to run, to hide, to snarl and attack the man - but Caleb shoves everything down and focuses on a point on Jester’s horn, keeping his expression blank.

Allura and Oremid Hass speak up on their behalf, vouching for them and the plot of the Angel of Irons that they uncovered and thwarted. Caleb barely hears as Caduceus starts talking, then Beau - then Ludinus and Jester say something and seeing her move jars him out of his intense stupor. They say something about Vence, Vence who’s not answering Ludinus, Vence who now for all intents and purposes is a fugitive of the crown.

Taking a steadying breath, Caleb wills himself to focus on the conversation. Allura’s talking to the king, saying that the Council of Tal’Dorei had requested she - “reach out to the Bright Queen on our behalf,” she finishes carefully, bracing herself for what she knows will come.

King Bertrand shoots forward, furious spittle flying out of his mouth. “You parlayed with our enemy without our consent?”

Not balking at his rage, Allura continues, “I do so because time was of the essence, apparently. Because the Council of Tal’Dorei remains neutral with the Kryn Dynasty, I could claim an audience without conflict. I notified them of all that we had learned,” she gestures to the Mighty Nein, “the Mighty Nein, and as such myself, about the seeming infiltration of the cult, within even their own midst, apparently. And they seemed to be responsive to trusting the word of these esteemed protectors.” She holds Bertrand’s gaze. “Thus the Bright Queen agreed to temporarily withdraw their attack, preventing them unintentionally aiding this Angel of Irons cult.”

Dwendal’s eyes narrow, his voice low. “They withdrew on your word,” he says, before his eyes trail across the Mighty Nein. “On  _ their _ word - what have been your dealings with the Bright Queen outside of this, if I might ask, that they would withdraw at the word of a handful of adventurers?”

“Well, we - we, we’ve been working with Expositor Beauregard,” Jester gently answers, pointing feebly at Beau.

“I’ve found, in my line of work, King Dwendal,” Beau starts, holding her ground. “If you’re going to learn about your enemy, you need to get close to them. Luckily, traveling with a band of misfits and goblins and half-orcs, and Caduceus,” Caduceus gives a small wave, “They were the perfect cover to get me close, without suspicion.”

“What else have you learned in your time with the Bright Queen?” the king asks, a hunger for an edge over his enemy clear in his eyes.

“She really wants her fucking beacon back,” Beau bites out, unflinching as King Bertrand stares down at her.

Then Ludinus steps up, with the grand idea to use the Mighty Nein to help end the war with the Dynasty - to use a beacon that  _ Trent _ , that Ikithon, just recently “uncovered” to help deliver this peace. Caleb wants to throw up when he hears that name, and he forces himself to breathe and keep his face void of emotion, this time focusing on a streak of blood along the back of Beau’s shirt.

And then Ikithon talks, and his voice, his voice - still as slimy and unsettling as it had always been. “We do, my liege,” he says, reassuring the king about the Assembly’s support of this course of action. “An optimistic view.”

An optimistic view. Caleb wishes he could just disappear. An optimistic view - Ikithon loved to have  _ an optimistic view _ on everything, even in the torture and corruption of all the young souls that he’d broken beneath his tutelage.

Caleb begins to scratch at his arms.

There’s more tense words, instructions and looming consequences should they fail to succeed, and then the king waves a hand, dismissing them all.

Allura rushes over with a smile. “Well done,” she tells them, then she sighs, seemingly overwhelmed herself.

Jester gives her a grateful nod. “Thank you.”

“Everything hurts,” Caduceus informs her, giving her a half shrug.

“Intimidating room,” Fjord comments.

“We’re apparently on the edge of being traitors, but yes, I guess we did a job well done,” Beau grounds out, arms crossed as she tries to keep her tension centered.

“Par for the course,” Caleb finally manages to get out.

Yasha gives Allura a tiny wave. “Hello.”

“Hello,” Allura greets, recognizing her after a moment. “Your friends spoke of - quite highly of you. We managed to, ah, to utilize their connection with you to look into your well-being. I’m glad to see that you’re alright?” She ends it with a question, looking Yasha over.

“Well, we’ll see,” Yasha answers, giving Allura a humorless smile. “I’m on my way there.”

“I’m Allura Vysoren,” Allura introduces, extending a hand.

“Hello,” Yasha repeats, taking Allura’s hand. “My - my name is Yasha.”

“So I’ve heard,” Allura smiles softly. “Well, I need to check in, and, ah, if perhaps -” she looks over her shoulder, looks at the king who gives her a firm look, shaking his head. She sighs again. “Well, if you need anything that I  _ can _ do, let me know.”

“That was very brave - what you did,” Fjord tells her. “You took quite the initiative.”

Allura laughs quietly, looking around at them all with a fond expression - but it almost feels as if she’s looking past them, looking at others, thinking of others. “Trust me, I’ve done far stupider.”

“I believe it,” Fjord nods, the look now on his face as he looks around at the group, but Caleb knows he’s seeing  _ them _ , not some past before them.

Caleb feels that same sentiment himself, and he tries to hold onto it to try and calm his panicked heart. “Things are moving faster than either of these nations can track,” he says. “If you and the Tal’Dorei Council, whoever they may be, can do anything to stay one step ahead of it, please, do so. It is too much for us alone.”

She watches him carefully, surveying the room around them one last time. “Understood.”

“Oh - oh, sorry, and if we m- and if we need a neutral place to meet, um, to organize a meeting for these two nations, maybe it could be in your nation?” Nott asks.

“I do not think the king would be interested in dragging this to distant foreign soil,” Allura answers with a shake of her head.

“Well, maybe like another plane of existence or something,” Jester suggests. “That would be pretty cool.”

“Sure, sure, sure, sure” Nott agrees.

Someone loudly clears their throat, and suddenly they notice Ludinus looming behind her, looking down at Allura with thinly veiled disdain.

“I’m sure you can work out the details with, ah, the individual of which you are charged,” Allura finishes. She gives Ludinus a short bow. “Martinent.”

“Arcanist,” Ludinus responds, barely even inclining his head.

She looks back at the group. “I’ll take my leave - good luck.” Then she turns, heading down the stairs and leaving them with Ludinus.

“Very well,” Ludinus starts. “Reach out to your contacts to aid in arranging such a meeting. We shall convene come the noonday sun tomorrow. I’ll arrange for lodging within the Camarouth Cottage here within the Shimmer Ward. I will greet you there in the morrow.”

“It’s going to be at least tomorrow morning before I can, um, contact anybody because I’m preeetty spent,” Jester tells him. “Just letting you know.”

The Martinet gives her a short nod. “You look it, but apparently you’ve been quite busy today, so take your rest. This is a high end establishment. We’ll convene and figure out what you plan in the morning.”

“Thank you,” Nott gets out. Then she asks, “Will we be escorted to this place, or are we on our own?”

“There’ll be an escort,” Ludinus answers, turning towards the marshal.

Giving a small bow, the marshal accepts, “Of course, Martinet.”

“Good, I will see you then,” the Martinet instructs them before taking his leave as well.

They quietly begin to follow, heading towards the exit when he notices him - right out of the corner of his eye, sauntering up to their group. He’d always kept him in his periphery, he’d never,  _ ever _ let him out of his sight. Old habits die hard, it seems.

Jester moves in front of Caleb as Beau and Nott step closer to him on both sides. He can feel Caduceus and Fjord flank him from behind, too. Yasha steps in behind Nott, reading the shift in the group instantly.

“Impressive business, isn’t it?” Ikithon observes, looking them over carefully. “You’ve come far from simple sell-swords and pit fighters.” Then his eyes land on Caleb, boring into him. “Especially you, Bren.”

The skin on his arms burns.

* * *

“What I fear is we go to this meeting tomorrow and - and hear them out and hear what their intention is,” Caleb says, numb and tired.

They’re all in his room at the Camarouth Cottage, all expressing their support and care for him. It’s a kindness Caleb doesn’t feel he deserves, but he’s too tired to protest it - and so they move on to talking about their meeting with the Martinet come morning. Caleb can focus on that, he can look towards that rather than let his past drag him under.

“We cannot take it at face value,” he sighs.

“No,” Caduceus agrees.

Caleb continues, “We also probably cannot turn it down.”

“And I doubt that the Bright Queen will be so foolish as to take it at face value either,” Caduceus assures him. “And she’ll understand that we’re telling her what we heard.”

“Will she?” Jester asks, looking at the ground nervously.

Caduceus nods, “Yes, of course.”

“Yes, and she won’t be foolish enough to just meet with someone face to face,” Nott adds. “She might astral project herself into the meeting or something.”

Jester turned to Nott, eyes wide. “She can do that?”

“I don’t know, she-she can live a million years,” Nott shrugged.

Fjord spoke up, crossing his arms. “I would remind us all that, um, the last time we were in Xhorhas, we were being watched - and I would assume that was by someone in the Dynasty, not here. So if they were watching while we were in that room -”

“They already know everything,” Jester finished.

“Could be,” Fjord sighed.

A thought occurs to Caleb - one that doesn’t fill him with dread. “It might not be a bad idea to -” he turns to Jester. “J-jester, um, to contact one of our friends there.” Just thinking about him makes Caleb feel lighter, the knot in his chest easing.

“The Bright Queen?” Jester suggests.

Caleb nods but that wasn’t exactly who he had in mind. “Yes, or -”

“Essek,” Caleb and Beau say at the same time.

“That’s what I said, oh boy,” Jester corrects.

“And, uh, they are not going to trust the Empire at face value either,” Caleb comments. “But, at least for our own, ah, standing with them, to appear to be on the up and up with them.”

Even though they entertain the idea briefly, they ultimately decide against it - it's too risky to  _ send _ in a spell. It's a conversation better had in person, and it just makes Caleb want to leave even more, it makes him want to flee. It makes him want to hide away in his study, with just calm, patient words and shared spell components as company. It makes him want to go home.

* * *

Talking to Ludinus the next day grants them a chance to view the beacon that Ikithon “found.” The Martinet  _ teleports  _ them, and even though it feels the same as when Essek does it, Caleb feels queasy and unsettled, uncomfortably so as they reappear at the foot of a mountain range, in front of tall spires and terrifyingly familiar architecture that pierces the overcast skies like knives.

“Welcome to the Vergessen Sanitorium,” Ludinus announces. He begins to make his way to the wrought iron fence, towards the guards that line the perimeter. “Follow me.”

His skin screams, there are screams in Caleb’s head, and then there’s Eodwulf and Ikithon - Ikithon, Ikithon, Ikithon, the man that ruined his life, that ruined  _ him _ , and Caleb feels himself unravel at the edges.

* * *

Maybe that’s what leads him to her house, what leads him to present himself as Bren Aldric Ermendrud. He is admitted without issue and led to a guest holding chamber, where he takes a seat.

He’s stiff, holding completely still and trying to will his breathing to remain steady as his heart threatens to beat out of his chest. Not long after the low candlelight brightens as a woman steps into the room.

Bren wants to hide. Instead, he rises.

She’s older, her eyes harder, colder, a scar running down her face from chin to brow, but she smiles softly - it’s her. It’s Astrid.

“It has been some time,” she says. “I was not expecting...you, Bren.” And there it is, his name, on her lips, what used to be the balm that would soothe his wounds after days spent beneath Ikithon’s scalpel now just the ghost of a caress at the back of his mind.

There’s a few words as they slip into Zemnian before she offers he take a seat as she sits down on the couch opposite of him. She rolls up the sleeves of her blouse as she sits, and he can see tattoos running up her arms.

A cold sweat breaks out on the back of his neck as they continue to talk, talk about being chosen and failing and heartache, and finally he asks, “How did I -” He clears his throat, his hands going to dig into the skin of his arms. “How did I get to the Sanatorium?”

“We took you there,” she tells him. “You had a breaking point and, understandably, began to lash out.” She gives him a small smile. “Part of that same spark that was seen in you could create a lot of sparks everywhere else.” She absentmindedly scratches at her neck before she tugs at the collar of her blouse, pulling it up. There are burn marks on the side of her neck.

His heart crawls up his throat.

“But for your own good,” she continues, “we took care of you, and we brought you there. But we had to subdue you first - you were too dangerous to us and to yourself.”

They had to subdue him - like an animal, a rabid beast, too dangerous, too dangerous,  _ lethal _ -

“What we did that night...” he says, after he talks of the woman that healed him. “I-I did fail. But I didn’t fail the Empire.” He swallows down the lump in his throat. “I failed myself and my mother and father.” Holding her gaze, he continues, “He lied to me. I know he lied. And if he would lie to me about that, it is hard for me to understand what he wouldn’t lie about.”

Astrid sighs. “Bren,” she breathes out. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.” She reaches out slowly, gently touching his cheek.

He watches her carefully, taking in how genuine she sounds, how genuine she  _ feels _ \- her touch familiar yet foreign now after so many years. But that hardness is still in her eyes, and he knows that if they were to go back to that night she would do it again. She had hardened like steel while he’d broken - she was inflexible in what she’d been taught.

And just like that, she was a complete stranger - the girl he loved and cared about now long gone, another casualty of the night his parents died.

Their conversation comes to a somber end, and he allows himself one final caress, putting a gentle hand on the burn scar, running his thumb down it.

“Too many scars,” he whispers, letting his hand drop.

“I regret none of them,” she answers, and there’s a pull, and it would be so easy to just follow it. “Except one.”

He looks away, standing up. “Thank you for allowing me into your home. Maybe we will see each other again.”

“You’re welcome any time, Bren,” she assures him. “I’d like to see more of you.”

“Yeah, maybe,” he nods, but he doesn’t feel it. Not anymore. He switches back to Common again. “We’ll see, uh, my friends are depending on me.”

“Of course,” she replies, also in Common. “Then you should probably get to them.”

There’s a beat of silence as he takes in her face, as he takes in every line and angle he used to have memorized. They’re still there, only older, colder - and he knows he could easily memorize them again.

Instead he turns towards the door.

He hears her follow behind, giving him space.

“ _ Guten nacht _ ,” he says, standing by the door.

She reaches out, grabbing his hand and giving it a light squeeze. “ _ Guten nacht _ .”

Her servant steps forward, opening the front door as Astrid drops his hand.

Caleb doesn’t look back as he walks away, heading back towards their lodgings. He can’t wait to leave Rexxentrum and finally go home.

* * *

“ _ Guess who’s baaaaack! _ ” a familiar voice, a voice he hadn’t realized he’d missed suddenly chimed in the back of his head. _ “Um, we’re back at the Xhorhaus - we miss you so much, _ ” Jester gushes, then asks, _ “We need to talk to the Bright Queen, are you around? _ ”

Relief finally settles on Essek’s shoulders, allowing him to shed the mantle of dread that he’d carried for weeks now - all of it coming to a head when he found out about the Mighty Nein and their battle with the cultists at the same time as the Xhorhassian incursion on Rexxentrum. He’d refrained from  _ sending _ them a message, worried that he might put them in danger somehow, and now, hearing from them - he had waited for this news for what felt like forever.

“ _ Well, welcome back - it is good to have you returned. _ ” He gathers his things, beginning to set them in order as quickly as he can. _ “Give me just a moment, please _ ,” Essek finishes, letting the rest of the message fade. He would be there as quickly as possible - to see them, to see him, and to finally rest easy that they were close and safe again. At least for now.

**Author's Note:**

> i just needed Caleb to let Bren and Astrid go, and idk I feel like this was the moment, him hesitating and thinking about staying before ultimately leaving, and choosing to go home, it just got me y'know??
> 
> and also, fuck Ikithon, that bitch can choke
> 
> well, I really really hope you guys liked it!! I can't wait to be back with the next fic of the series :)))
> 
> this fic was inspired by:  
> Punishment and Politics | Critical Role | Campaign 2, Episode 87 - 2:46:00 - 3:18:10  
> Unwanted Reunions | Critical Role | Campaign 2, Episode 88 - 1:00:40, 2:18:00  
> Lingering Wounds | Critical Role | Campaign 2, Episode 89 - 1:40:45 - 2:03:45  
> Bathhouses and Bastions | Critical Role | Campaign 2, Episode 90 - 2:18:25


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